Again to Glasgow

Getting There

Wrapped up the necessary details at the Jack O'Diamonds ranch and headed north to Dickenson, NDak.  Arrived under rainy skies to discover the whole town had been taken over by the oil boom taking place in North Dakota.  Not a single motel available.  Trudged on to Glendive, Montana.

Over the past few years my travel plan has taken me across the top of Montana, through Northern Idaho and to the Palouse in Washington State before dropping back down to Eastern Oregon to end the safari with yet another futile elk hunt (more on that later).

This year I decided to skip the Palouse and travel directly south after spending a few days in Glasgow, Montana hunting Block Management land that I had stomped before and had relative good luck.

Glasgow is located on the Milk River just east of the Fort Peck Indian Reservation and the Fort Peck Dam and lake.  It is the world's largest hydraulically earth filled dam in the world.  Constructed in the 1930's by the Army Corps of Engineers, it impounds a lake 134 miles long, has 1600 miles of shoreline with a capacity of 19,000,000 acre feet.

After setting up camp and scouting a few of the areas I was familiar with, I stopped at the Montana Fish & Game office to buy a license.  There I was told that the pheasant hunting was virtually non-existent because of the Milk River flooding, which had most of the plain underwater until June.

Might as Well Hunt

Not very good news, but what the hell, there I was...might as well hunt.

I took off with the dog in near frenzy.  Once I put the e-collar on him, he's charged and ready for the field.  We arrived at a BMA section that looked to be perfect territory.  Little used structure, ditch banks, open CRP with a food plot stubble on one end.  Wind coming straight at us about 5 mph.  Temp in the high 30's. 

It was the perfect afternoon.  Joe Dog and I crisscrossed through the low cut hay and he quartered through the short wind rows nose to the ground.  There was scent.  As we neared the ditch row, he dove in and the chase was on.

Trying to keep up with a dog running a ditch on hot scent will keep you honest.  The adrenalin peaks about the same time as your heart rate.  Then the dog slams to a point, you take a breath and the madness of the hunt explodes in wild flushes.  One bird at first.  Another jumps.  It's a hen.  Three break left.  Roosters!  Swing, shoot, snap the breech and reload.

It's over for the moment.  Breathe deep and feel the sting of cold air refresh your senses.  The dog retrieves one to hand and turns, without praise, to dive back into the tall grass.  A simple lull in the action.

Four or five steps later it begins again.  Knees wobble and hands shake.  Gasp for calm.  Two hens blow from the cover and run up the row.  The dog in hot pursuit plows over the ditch bank and two, four more birds erupt from the cover.  A rooster drops, you fumble for more ammo.  Another flushes at your feet...the bastard was running back toward you.  One shot it's down.

A Montana limit on a October afternoon.

In the waning light of dusk, the dog and I made our way back to the truck to put an end to the day.  One of the best afternoons ever.

The next day, weather moved through bringing high winds and spits of rain.  Took a short hunt at another BMA site but found no scent to chase.  The day after it was on to Malta and then south.

So there it is.  Stay tuned.